


As Within, So Without.

by Elementale



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol appears but isn’t drank, Dialogue Heavy, E12 still happened and though there’s no description of blood or violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Resurrecting Clover, Speculatory character development, featuring the Staff of Creation, it’s gonna be a heavy conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23251618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementale/pseuds/Elementale
Summary: Day 4 - Soulmates“Why do you deny yourself heaven? Why do you consider yourself undeserving? Why are you afraid of love? You think it’s not possible for someone like you... but you are the love of my life.”- “Reformation.” Warsan Shire
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	As Within, So Without.

When Qrow came to, he was laying on the vault’s floor, and the space had been engulfed in an otherworldly light while the floor shook. As his eyes adjusted and the brilliant light started to dim, he managed to make out the figures of James and Penny standing near the spot where the glowing staff had been situated.   
  
Penny kept a hand over James’s shoulder as he lowered the rod. When the rumbling that shook the floor came to a full stop, Penny looked over her shoulder to Qrow and turned to walk towards him with a brilliant smile.   
  
He understood: as of that moment, Atlas was officially sitting level with Mantle.   
  
_ The kid did it. _ _   
_   
She extended a hand to him and he took it, steadying himself as he found his footing getting up. A hand rose to massage his temple as disorientation currently had the room rocking back and forth around him from the rumbling and the blows he’d sustained from his fight with the General even well after his aura had shattered.    
  
James approached him with the relic in hand while Penny’s hand moved to rest on Qrow’s shoulder reassuringly.    
  
The worn look in the other man’s eyes said everything it needed to say. It expressed regret, but it didn’t completely apologize. Accented by defeat, but it still held to some strain of resolve. “You were right,” James’s voice cut through the dim and quiet space as he offered him the staff. “It won’t be long before the rest of them wake up. Do what you need to do.”   
  
He took the staff as Penny stepped away from the space to check the damages outside, Qrow doing so not without understanding what the other wanted. 

He couldn’t help the forced chuckle he let out. 

“So that’s how it is,” he bit out at James through a glare every inch as cold as it was pointed, “someone else has to pay for you to get you your special operative back, is that it?”   
  
“No,” James sighed in resignation, “he’s due for some rest and a choice if he still wants to serve when he comes back. I’d do it myself if I could but you know the rules - it’s only one use per person.”   
  
A silence hung between them.   
  
“If this works, you know this won’t make up for any of what happened with him, right?”    
  
“I know... but if I can’t settle this one myself, I think you deserve that chance to make this right. This isn’t for me, it’s for him.”   
  
Qrow tightened his hold on the handle. James turned to leave the room the same way Penny had a moment prior. He took out his scroll to make a call, but not before adding another thought.   
  
“And it’s for you.”   
  
  
  
-   
  
  
  
_ Klotho. _ _   
_   
The space was still and empty as he said her name.    
  
She appeared from an emission of xanthic mist, a golden form pulling itself together just as ethereal and bare as the other relic’s residing being. Her fluttering hair draped over her in waves of mahogany, and the woven ornaments adorning her waistline, wrists and ankles matched the staff’s crystal in their blue.   
Not unlike Jinn, her presence alone commanded something little short of mesmerization.   
  
She opened her eyes with a look of sheer delight and looked down at the man holding the staff with curiosity. A warm smile made its way across her features as she greeted him. Invisible people spoke in a crowded frenzy and she addressed them briefly before returning her attention to Qrow.   
  
“I am Klotho: a being created by the God of Light to bless humanity with the weighted power of creation. Dear human, please speak to me of your petition.”   
  
Aware of the invisible gallery around them, he hardened his gaze on the reflective gold in his hands as he thought well on what he would say. What he came up with wasn’t as bespoken as he hoped, but it was nonetheless concise.   
“I want a way to bring someone back from the dead,” he explained, “as one of the people responsible for why he died, I want my debt to him settled.”    
  
His voice betrayed nothing, and yet it betrayed everything.   
  
_ “It sounds like the matter is more personal than that,” _ a different voice spoke, sounding like a young woman’s voice.   
  
Another one sounding too much like James added,  _ “You must omit no truth in your request. Is this a personal matter?” _   
  
There was a rapid fire of many questions following, most indistinguishable in the frenzy, but there was one that stood out.   
  
_ “What are you?” _   
  
“I,” he exhaled, deciding he would respond to that one as it was the only question he had an immediate prepared answer for, “I’m cursed. I go where I’m needed, but I wasn’t wanted... or that’s what I let myself believe for a long time.”   
  
She leaned forward and raised a hand to pause the chatter of the gallery, hovering attentively. They fell silent.   
  
“Explain,” she urged.   
  
He took a deep breath. Qrow had been told to expect questions cutting into character and insecurities like this, but what he hadn’t been told to expect was an audience. As challenging as it would be to pretend he wasn’t about to spill his heart out to a sea of invisible people, he looked into Klotho’s eyes and drew a deep breath with the intention to do just that.   
  
“People like me - we learn early on that your losses sting a lot less when you just assume you can’t really be wanted being the way you are. When other people just reinforce that, well I’m sure you can imagine what that does to someone with enough time.”   
  
She frowned, taking it in.   
  
“I didn’t realize it then, but I was one of the luckier ones. I was fortunate enough to have had people around me who were ready to challenge that idea - that I couldn’t and shouldn’t be wanted or loved. 

“So that’s where I’m at right now - wrestling an idea that was destroying me. Honestly, I still don’t even really know if this guy would want anything to have to do with me,” Qrow replied, voice level despite hands trembling from the grip he had on the staff, “not after everything that happened. The one thing I can say I do know is that he really did want to trust me. He told me that himself.”   
  
Her eyes lit up in understanding.    
“You seek to restore him and prove his trust would not have been misplaced.”   
  
He only nodded.   
  
“I can create the solution you seek to restore him. There is however a stipulation that will come in exchange for the fix, and due to the personal nature of this request, it falls on you directly to answer for it.”   
  
“I understand.”   
  
“You should also know that using this relic to create the curative potion will be considered a current use until the potion is poured over its intended recipient.”   
  
“So what then?”   
  
“Once that has been accomplished, the staff will be free for other uses.” 

  
Klotho waved her arms languidly and created two forms from the mist trailing her motions, holding in one hand an orb of sunlight and in the other an orb of nebulous obsidian. 

“The rule: for a blessing created, there is an equivalent curse in its weight that must be applied. In exchange for this reviving cure, the bind to be put over you when it is used will be...” she paused to gauge his reaction.   
There was something between hesitant expectation and desperation in the way his crimson eyes looked up into her unfathomable ones. A vulnerability unconcealed. This was, without question, someone who was expecting the worst and had grown accustomed to receiving just that.  
  
The tinkle of her soft laughter filled the space before she finished, “a shared lifeline or a thread of fates if you prefer. As long as you are alive and well, so too will he be - the same holds true in reverse.”   
Perhaps he was due for a break from grim expectation, she figured.  
  
His eyes widened squarely. Though he found himself relieved, he was still troubled. “Tying his life right to mine?” he thought aloud.  
  
“If you wish to create the potion, that is my condition.”  
  
“I’ll admit I had been expecting a much steeper price, but if I’m being honest,” he responded, brows knit in concern, “that’s not a choice I feel quite right making without his input. What you’re saying is that it’s binding for the rest of our lives?”  
  
“Yes,” she replied while she sank to the floor, “as for the matter of his input.. well, it’s always those like you, isn’t it?”   
He quirked a brow.   
Klotho clarified, “there are no shortage of souls who would accept those terms for the return of a loved one with no further questions asked. Yet your thoughts considered his reflexively...”  
  
She pressed an index finger to her chin as her eyes brightened with an idea.   
“Very well then, I will reward your conscientiousness - you may ask him yourself.”  
  
-  
  
Qrow blinked and in the next second found himself in a different space - the first thing he noticed were the reflective and rolling waters before him. Under a canopy of cloudless and starlit sky, he could see an edge of the dome glowing orange from either a sunrise or sunset to come. He couldn’t tell.   
His eyes rested on an inverted version of the shattered moon above reflected back through the golden accents of the staff still in his hands.  
  
The next thing he noticed was how his socks and shoes felt soaked through - looking down, he realized he was standing in the cold shallows of a tide pool connected between rocks to the ocean stretching and rolling in front of him.   
  
“Hey.”   
  
It was with hesitation that he slowly turned around to find Clover Ebi standing before him, cleanly uniformed as ever with a signature smile he never thought he’d get to see his friend sport again.  
 _Friend._ _  
_  
The moment his gaze met Clover’s, there was an instant feeling of remorse that rose well above the water pooling around his shins and surged through him.  
It sank his stomach as it brought with it the notion that perhaps he had no right to call this man his friend. Not after what had been done.  
  
“Hey yourself,” he rasped out.  
  
Yet he couldn’t fight it. It came like a painful yank at his heartstrings, an equally overwhelming sense of relief and a sudden burst of affection he felt seeing the other alive and well like this. He looked rested too. The demands of the Atlesian military were nonexistent in the afterlife, evidently.  
  
They fell into a comfortable silence amidst the sound of the roaring tides now behind Qrow. Clover was the one to break it, wading forward to bridge some of the distance between them.  
“So, how‘d it all turn out? Until you got here, that is.”  
  
“Oh, I- I’m not dead yet,” he replied as he shook his head, “but to answer your question, things so far’ve mostly worked out. Gotten through the worst of it, but we’re not out of the woods just yet.”  
  
“Wait,” the other responded while raising a brow, “if you’re not gone yet, then how are you here?”  
  
“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” he said holding the staff up, tilting it toward the other. “You know what this is and what it does, right?”  
  
“Yeah.”   
Clover‘s eyes flitted between Qrow and the glowing jewel at its end. “That’s...” his eyes widened in panic as he came to the realization that Atlas was no longer airborne. “Hold on. Wh-what’s- _why is it- what did you-?!”_  
  
“Hey, hey - stay with me. It’s alright. The people are fine,” Qrow soothed while wading through the water over to where Clover stood, “James used it to set Atlas down away from Mantle.”   
  
“Thank. Brothers,” Clover heaved before taking in a deep breath. He almost immediately threw a hand to the shoulder closest to him as soon as the caped man reached him, having been careful not to slip on submerged rock on his way over.  
  
Qrow laughed in spite of himself.   
“It’s gonna be fine, Clover. It’s gonna be alright.”   
  
He looped his own arm under the one linking Clover to him, massaging circles into the other’s shoulder. “And _you know_ that ain’t my line.” Clover found himself breaking into a smile at that.   
He let out a relieved chuckle. “It sounds _nice_ when you deliver it though.”   
“Thanks - with any luck, I might start delivering good news more often,” he added with a smirk.  
  
A comfortable silence hung for a moment as the two shared a smile. Not at all unlike how they used to.  
  
It was Clover who spoke next.   
“So. I take it you’re here for something more than just a good weather report.”  
  
“You could say that,” Qrow responded. He mulled over what he was going to say next and settled on a question. A simple one.  
“Do you like it here?”  
  
The other didn’t hesitate.  
“Well, sure. I’ve even run into some people on this side with some pretty interesting stories to tell about you and your team,” Clover explained.   
“I could reintroduce you if you want.”  
  
“That’s sweet,” Qrow snickered, “but I don’t think I’ve got that kind of time.”  
  
“I figured,” the other lamented, clearly feigning lamentation.  
  
Qrow missed him, he really did.  
He pocketed the hand not holding the staff and inhaled the ocean air deeply. While it was mineral and saline back in Remnant, here it was sweet. Something between the saccharine air and the nerves from what he wanted to discuss tickled at his stomach, but he elected to ignore the feeling.  
“I’ve been given a chance to do something and I wanted to ask you what you think,” he stated, crimson eyes drifting to meet Clover’s seafoam green, “it’s about you.”  
  
Quirking a brow with a playful pout, Clover placed a hand over his chest exaggeratedly. “Oh?” he said.  
  
Elbowing the other’s arm lightly, Qrow tried to bite back a giggle. He tried. “Knock it off, hotshot. This is serious,” he retorted, not knowing how to keep the smirk off his face from spreading itself out into a full grin.   
He had to fake a cough to clear it.   
Before the other could interrupt him, he managed to get in, “I’ve been offered a chance to bring you back to life.”  
  
The other went dead silent and moved a hand up to his hip, shifting his weight more to one leg as he stood.  
“Wait. Seriously?”  
  
“Not too good to be true though,” he reassured, “there’s a catch.”  
  
“Usually is,” Clover shrugged with a knowing quirk of his lip, “I’ve heard enough stories.”  
  
This time it was Qrow who initiated contact as he set a hand on Clover’s bicep. Clover didn’t flinch or move, his eyes merely followed Qrow’s hand and stayed set on it. “You’d be coming back with me here when time’s up. It’s non-negotiable. If-” he shook his head and continued, _“when_ something out there happens to you or me, that’d be the end of the line for both of us.”  
  
“So... you’re the one who’d be paying for my return is what you’re saying?” Clover let out an understanding huff as he replied. “That’s heavy.”   
  
“I mean, I was told it’s supposed to be a curse, but I can think of worse prices to pay for an undead friend. _And_ _trust me,_ I’ve been cursed with worse before.”  
  
“There’s better prices too, you know,” Clover said, his gaze moving back to the staff again before darting out towards the watery horizon. “I - don’t get me wrong Qrow, it’s really, really nice of you to offer that, but.. I just - I really don’t think that’ll be necessary, and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be fair to you.”  
  
 _Fairness._ _  
_There’s an f word if he knew one.  
  
Qrow was a spy once, and persuasion was a tactic he learned how to employ when coaxing information out of people. He also knew how to apply pressure when he needed to - not unlike an attack dog. Qrow recalled the ace ops having been described by that unfortunate protester as Ironwood’s personal attack dogs the night he and the kids first met the business end of their bolo ties. He could even recall having acted as something to that effect for Oz at some point in his career.  
Things done in the name of loyalty. Another common link.  
  
The past few weeks taught him a new skill however that no amount of field work could’ve prepared him to learn, and it was simultaneously the most liberating thing as it was the most terrifying thing he’d learned to do. He pulled the badge out from his pocket and gave its rust-colored stains another look, Clover’s eyes widening slightly as he glanced between Qrow’s eyes and his badge.  
  
It was time for a crow to show off a new trick. 

If it could even be called a trick.   
  
“Clover, do you remember when we first met? And I’m not talking about when you and your team arrested the kids and me,” Qrow smiled sheepishly, almost reliving the memory. Clover let himself smile back at the memory with a quiet nod. The other softly continued, “I mean, do you remember where I was? Trying to break with old habits. Trying to get better. Trying to change things about me, not quite changing my tune though - I think you said it yourself once. Endless cynicism I think is what you called it.”   
  
Clover’s expression withered.   
“I.. I really wish I could take back a lot of what I said that morning.”   
  
“Look,” Qrow sighed, “you said some things that morning that hurt to have to hear, but I think we can both agree I did too.   
  
“To think that I thought I was out of options... even thought to myself I was already pretty much destined to lose you too. I didn’t push back against that,” he exhaled as his eyes trailed back and forth between the faded stains and the other’s face, “so, thinking you lost, I was even ready to work with an enemy - talking someone who killed a bunch of innocent people,  _ hurt me _ and threatened my family, for Brothers’ sake! If I hadn’t been blind enough let myself buy into that stupid idea that I’d already lost you, I wouldn’t have done that in the end,” Qrow groaned in exasperation, combing a hand through his graying locks, nails digging into his scalp, “I don’t even know if I’ve got the words to tell you just  _ how sorry _ I am for that.”   
  
Clover kept silent. He looked like he was debating with himself what he should say in response to that apology, and he couldn’t settle on what that would be.

All the while however, the look in his eyes was markedly one of remorse and wistfulness.   
  
Buying Clover some time to think and decide, Qrow continued, “I didn’t fully realize it until that morning, but there was still something missing. There was- it was a spark I’d lost a long time ago. Some hope that maybe I wouldn’t have to keep pushing other people away, and that maybe I could want things to get better. Getting to know you was what helped me get that back.”   
He slid a thumb over the horseshoe piece of the emblem, offering Clover the badge. “You were my first partner in a long while, and the first friend I’d made after I decided to start my recovery from... well, you know.”   
  
Clover’s eyes expressed a quiet understanding in its weight for every word he had just received.   
“I’m really glad to hear I could help you,” he finally spoke up.    
“Even with everything that happened, I still think you deserve to take that direction and keep running with it: follow what makes you happy. Always liked you better when you smiled anyway,” Clover added while declining the invitation to take the badge back, “and if I go with you, I’m only gonna slow you down.”   
  
He felt it again. He felt that sinking feeling from that morning. He felt he was losing him.   
“James and your team want you back too, you know. Even if it’s just to see you get a second chance at life again.”

  
“They’re not the ones here offering me their lifeline. I miss them too, but I really don’t think I can do this to you.”   
  
“I landed you here, Clover,” he returned - almost pleading, “You keep telling me I deserve to be happy, but  _ what about you? _ You had your own hopes and things you still wanted a chance to see and do in Remnant before coming here. You used to tell me about all that.”   
  
The other’s eyes softened even further.   
“So you remember all that.”   
  
“‘Course I’d remember that,” he sighed softly, “You were my friend. You helped me find the part of myself I needed to find if I was ever gonna finish picking up these pieces. I’ve got maybe half a lifetime left if I’m lucky, and in that time I know I still could never repay you for all of that. Could a guy try, though?”   
  
“You don’t owe me anything, Qrow,” Clover answered, scratching at the back of his head apprehensively, “again, it might mostly be the soul-bind thing, but I just... I- I still don’t think that’s a fair price for you to have to pay for someone like me.”   
  
_ Someone like him.  _   
Words spoken a way that served the indicator Qrow needed to confirm what he already suspected about where his friend was coming from.   
  
“James can train someone to fill the space you left behind on his team, Clover,” he reminded the other, slowly kneeling down into the water to sit in the pool. “I can’t say the same for your spot as someone who James was willing to trust with the truth before it got out. I can’t say the same for your place as the person who he agrees it’d be due justice to see return.”   
  
“This isn’t about him though,” the other protested, kneeling to join Qrow.   
  
“I’m glad we can both agree on that,” Qrow shot back, tucking the badge into his pocket, the badge sliding in with ease under the mirroring water submerging and blanketing both their legs. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t quite warm either.   
  
“I couldn’t replace you, and this bind isn’t the unfair price you think it’d be to me, Clover. I want you to know that,” he said, cutting his own thoughts on the water short. “These days,  _ maybe _ I can see a future version of myself out there, living better than before this whole mess. I should and I could be alright. Even without you there,” those last words stung bitterly at his throat before they left his mouth. Clover even winced a bit, though it was unclear whether it was from the strain with which he said it or if it was from the words themselves.    
The swell of that bitter sensation rose from Qrow’s throat and seeped its way into his eyes as he felt a familiar prickle about them. His vision began to cloud.   
  
“But even knowing that - finally knowing that I don’t have to look too far to find that worth,” he croaked out, “knowing for the first time in my life I’ll be alright either way...”    
The dam of hot tears gave out and spilled as his heart clenched sharply at the thought of returning without a second chance to live with the man now in front of him. The pain in his chest on clear display, Qrow wept for the first time since that morning. He felt the other’s hand immediately fly to his back.   
“I- Clover, I don’t wanna go this thing on my own anymore! I wanna go back and start this over with you,” he scrubbed at his shut eyelids furiously, wiping at the drops.    
“I fought hard for this chance - a chance to  _ set things right _ with you,  _ do right  _ by you - and now I have to face it. There’s  _ nothing _ I can say that’s gonna fix this... what I broke.”   
  


“No. Qrow, you didn’t break this,” Clover whispered as his voice cracked.

  
The other reacted a way Qrow hadn’t expected: he’d never seen or heard Clover cry before. Put together as the other had been up to this point, it seemed clear something in what he said made that armor give way. His vision was still too hazy to fully make out or read the other’s expression, but he saw the other’s hand fly to cover his face. With another blink, Qrow’s vision was clear enough for him to see the tears leaking between the other man’s fingers run down as he sniffled.

  
Two men broken in their own right, they sat in the shallows of a shore, tears streaking both of their faces, the moon and the sky their witness.   
  
“You’re not the only one who’s had time to think back on what happened that morning.” Clover continued his previous thought as he rubbed small circles along the other’s back with the hand not wiping at his own tears, “I had a choice to make too, and  _ I failed you _ \- in that moment, you were scared and you needed somebody who you could count on. Orders or no orders, I completely lost sight of what was important. I was still your friend, and I failed you  _ the second _ I stopped being that person.”   
  
He thumbed at his tears as they kept dribbling out. “I can’t tell you  _ how sorry I am _ for what I put you through. I- I can’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been. And now... now you’re here like everything’s alright. Like there’s this tie, this permanent spot you feel you owe me that’ll bind my life with your life -  _ a life, I honestly don’t even have a right to be part of anym-!”  _   
Clover was cut off by a pair of arms wrapping him in a very unforeseen embrace.   
  
_ “Sh-shut up,” _ Qrow sobbed into his shoulder hiccuping, “if this th-thing made the price s-switching places with you, you’d  _ still _ be completely worth it  _ to me.” _ _   
_   
Clover bawled into the other’s trembling shoulder as the other tightened the hold he had around him.   
  
_ “‘S-someone had to ta-take the fall’ _ you said,” Qrow grumbled under his breath as his sobs shook him, “you were sc-scared just as shitless as I was - we were  _ both _ wrong...”   
  
Qrow Branwen loved him.    
There was no question about that.   
  
“Y-you deserved so much better th-than what you were r-ready to settle with. I’m sorry I d-didn’t have it in me to tell you that sooner.”   
  
Clover Ebi was loved, and he was loved by a man who was willing to trust him to an entirety, even after an initial semblance of trust between them had been shattered. The weight of it was enough, the gravity of it was too much and the reality of it was everything.

  
As the tears poured while he felt his chest constrict, he remembered having heard tales earlier in his life of love that had the power to make possible what was once thought impossible. Love that could save. He grew up wondering in the back of his mind - a small corner no one would know where to reach - if such a miracle existed or if he could ever find that kind of love.    
  
The Atlesian military wasn’t the place to look for that, but it was the most obvious place to go in Solitas if you had combative capabilities and wished to do good with them in humanity’s fight for survival against the Grimm, as indeed he did. Though there was no promise of love in the walls of that institution, there was an abundant promise of a particular brand of loyalty in its weight.    
A single brand of loyalty isn’t immaculate love, but it was an effective enough substitute for a soul silently wishing for the latter. Clover learned it was possible to settle for the former when the latter proved itself elusive, a private daydream.   
  
The closest he felt he would ever come to that dream was in the warmth and pride that came with being personally appointed and trusted by someone who seemed all too willing to carry the weight of Atlas on his shoulders. He had in his hands the fruit from the pinnacle of that brand of loyalty. It’s as high as he would go. He convinced himself that if he ever let himself feel this wasn’t enough, then nothing in his life would be.    
To have to accept that it wasn’t what he truly wanted wasn’t an acceptable outcome.    
  
That is, until he got to know the man in his arms at that moment.    
  
It hurt.   
  
He cried knowing there was no running from that truth anymore.    
He cried knowing the walls he’d put up to fortify the piece of him housing that dream were now fallen.    
He cried knowing the miracle he wanted was finally here, at the time and place he least expected it to come.

He cried knowing he would get to keep the warmth now flooding his chest, the tears of acceptance it brought on conscribing him to a new mission.

Clover wished to get it right this time.

  
He loved Qrow Branwen, and he embraced this.    
He loved him, and he was loved by him.   
That alone was all the justification it seemed the universe needed to let him breathe again.   
  
  
Cries eventually subsided into laughter after a few pointed jokes pertaining to how soaked in seawater and tears they and their garments were. Perhaps it was all in the elation of the moment, but they were both taken in by an overwhelming urge to break with whatever remained of the gravity that brought them down into previously knee-level tidal pool water that was now midriff-level tidal pool water. What started with some light back and forth splashes devolved into a friendly all-out tidal war. Exhausted, they collapsed onto the rocks where their shoes had been discarded for the game, nigh-permanent beaming and water-related banter notwitheld.   
  
Two crows crossed the sky overhead, and Qrow was reminded that he wasn’t here to stay. Judging by the way Clover held his hand with nothing but tenderness and affection in his eyes as his lips grazed his knuckle, Qrow knew the other wasn’t due to remain here much longer either. He didn’t know if he believed in soulmates, but he also wasn’t sure what to call what he was going to share with Clover from here on out. Upon giving air to that thought, the other chuckled as he threaded his hands into Qrow’s soaked locks.    
  
“We’ll figure it out,” he replied.   
  
Clover pushed back Qrow’s bangs and let out a low whistle. Qrow’s face went red almost immediately at the intimate and hungry way the other’s eyes sized up his features.   
He quite liked the feeling - a fact more obvious to him here than it had been before. If he didn’t know any better, he’d even say it seemed as though any reservation about this aspect of their connection was now gone.   
  
This would be equally exciting as it would be dangerous for their lifeline. It seemed the other didn’t mind that.    
  
Coincidentally enough, he thought as he watched the pair of corvids fly towards the risen sun, neither did he.   
  
-   
  
“Your decision is made, I take it?”   
  
He thanked her and held up the staff higher to confirm it.   
  
“I’ll require the badge and the flask. Does it have any contents?”   
  
“Not after this - I’ll be throwing that out for good.”   
  
“Let me see it.”    
She took it in hand as he held it out for her, and she examined it, taking note of the emblem etched into the leather.   
“It’s no grail or cauldron but it will do.”   
  
She uncapped the flask and pulled the amber liquid out from its mouth, inspecting it curiously. Qrow tried to ignore the way the scent permeated the space, casting his eyes down to his shoes to avoid looking at it. Though he hadn’t tasted a drop of the drink since the moment he officially swore it off, he still did refill the flask sometime after his arrest, choosing to carry it with him as a reminder of his failure the morning of his arrest. He was in a different state when he chose that. A portable tormentor sitting in a pocket just out of sight, though seldom out of mind.   
  
A tripwire.   
  
“May I?”   
He looked up at her and nodded resolutely.   
  
The badge hovered above the drifting flask, glowing a familiar green while its stains emitted a red glow.   
  
She cast the suspended sphere of amber fluid down and it hit the ground with a burst. A splash.    
The glowing badge was then held out for him to grab. With it in his hand, Klotho gestured for him to set it over the pooling liquor.    
“Why?”   
“Purify it.”   
  
One knee to the ground, he bent forward and held the badge over the pool of liquor in front of him. The glow, not burning his hand, brought the amber liquid to a boil and its color began to drain. Klotho set the flask down next to him while he held the badge over the bubbling liquid.    
  
“There.”   
  
At that, the potion stopped its simmer as it cooled. Like oil over water, it shone in iridescence.    
  
Two threads of silk, she divided the potion into two threads which she braided together into one stream, funneling it into the flask beside Qrow. He looked on in awe as for the first time, a solution to fix his problem was poured into the flask. It was tentatively that he picked the container up and capped it securely once its contents were in.   
  
She ran the instructions over, and he held onto every word as the last thing he wanted to do was ruin this.   
  
He moved to raise the staff in order to leave Klotho to rest until the task was done, thanking her once more, but she stopped him briefly.    
She had a question.   
“You said you were fighting an idea that drove you to many woes, the curse binding you to what was in that flask once having been one. Why did you believe it was your place to suffer so?”   
  
“The answer to that...” Qrow reflected, brushing a thumb over the insignia etched into the flask’s leather pensively, “you already know why. But that question isn’t really for me, now is it?”   
  
She smirked as the voices about laughed variantly, ranging from snickers to roars.   
“You are an astute one.”   
  
“It’ll make for a good conversation starter,” he quipped back with a shrug, “thanks for that.”   
  
Klotho smiled warmly. Brilliant light engulfed the space as the sound of the gallery crescendoed.   
  
“Go.”

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finally done. There are a lot of notes I would love to throw in on references and mythological allusions (a lot of thought went into those and there’s no shortage of meta on Tumblr to thank for inspiring that), so I’ll list a few tidbits here for anyone interested in that trivia:
> 
> \- for those unacquainted with the three fates of Greek mythology, Clotho is the life thread weaver - the other two fates measure (choose) and sever (destroy) human lifelines respectively
> 
> \- on the subject of Greek mythology, Klotho giving Qrow the break he needed to bring Clover back was a reference to the Alcyone and Ceyx story: star-crossed lovers who the gods felt compassion for in their undying devotion and then revived in kingfisher form to let them be together, even giving them a good weather period in winter for nesting
> 
> \- the vocal gallery the staff contains with its residing entity consists of copies of voices from people who had used the staff before; something akin to the talking headmaster portraits in HP - James’s and Qrow’s voices are its newest additions as of the end of this fic
> 
> \- the flask containing the rum-turned-healing-potion is in its own way a parallel to the bleeding lance that had to be applied to the Wounded/Fisher King’s injury so it could heal him. The flask may not have killed Clover, but it was an emblem of Qrow’s maladaptive habits helping lead to the events that transpired in E12 that got him killed
> 
> \- the curse for a resurrection-related blessing is a callback to the tale of Branwen and the cauldron of resurrection in which there was some price a resurrected person would have to pay if they were thrown into the cauldron. Considering how powerful the relics are supposed to be, there was room to take creative liberty with that concept (and what way more fitting to tie in the thread spinning fate than an ability to create bound lifelines with magic?)
> 
> \- the final question Klotho presents Qrow is a reference to an iteration of the Fisher King tale where the healing question that must be asked to restore the kingdom was about the source of the king’s wound. Add in the themes of learning to trust others who love you amidst fear and accepting love when found, and the healing question takes on a few new semantic facets


End file.
